I just can't afford some of the things people are selling

Editor's note: Terry Moore, 31, has been a Globe-News staff writer since January 1996. He was diagnosed with lung cancer July 13. This is the eighth in a series of periodic columns.

The guy seemed friendly enough on the phone. Sitting across from him, I had another opinion.

"A one-month supply is $1,500," he said. "That's $100 less than we charge if you buy it by the week."

My response was simple: "I can't afford it."

His response: "Then you can't afford to live."

I didn't say anything else. He made me angry, and he hurt my feelings.

He was not the first to tell me about alternative treatments for cancer. But he was the only one who's questioned my will to live.

He has no idea.

Every morning I'm glad I can open my eyes.

I thank God that my son Brett likes the Miami Dolphins and vegetables just because everybody else in our house likes the Denver Broncos and fruit.

I like the fact I'm starting to not understand the things his older brother Ben does.

I'm thankful my wife turns the light on and wakes me up at 5 a.m., when I don't have to get up until 7, and that she expects me to pick up the dry cleaning, get her car inspected and fix the tail light.

I thank God I have a dad and sisters who would take the cancer for me if only they could.

I'm thankful I have co-workers who worry about me - not because they're afraid of having to do my work, but because they care.

I didn't realize I was thankful for that stuff until I got sick.

And this guy suggested I wasn't willing to pay a price to live.

He has no idea.

I listened to the alternative-treatment sales pitches for awhile. I've since grown to dread their calls and letters.

Most of the salesmen bash the chemotherapy treatment route I've chosen. They contact me because they believe in their products - mostly herbs and diets - and want to help.

I don't believe in them, so there's no use wasting my money.

Most claim to cure 90 to 95 percent of all cancers, even stage four cases like mine. Most cure AIDS. Most help fight MS.

Most of the miracle cures are made outside the United States, or in a garage. The people selling them say that's because they are not approved by the Federal Food and Drug Administration.

The reason the FDA won't approve them is because the government makes too much money off more traditional forms of treatment to allow something so revolutionary, they say.

I say thanks, but no thanks, and they usually wish me luck. They often say they'll pray for me. They are usually nice and sincere.

This one guy was not sincere. He was a vulture looking to make money off of people fighting for their lives, like me.

My last two CT scans have shown one tumor in my right lung is shrinking. The other has not grown and the cancer has not spread to more bones.

Progress is slow. I'll admit that. But it's progress.

So long as the chemotherapy is buying time, we'll stick with it.

If and when it stops working, I'll think about trying something else.

But it won't be that $1,500 a month stuff.

I can't afford to be around people who question my will to live.

Terry Moore is a Globe-News staff writer. He can be contacted at 1-800-692-4052, ext. 3452 or: